


the wings of a hummingbird

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, platonic anxceit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Janus has a panic attack and receives comfort from an unexpected source.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 17
Kudos: 152





	the wings of a hummingbird

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to do the description again
> 
> writing how a panic attack feels is surprisingly difficult even when you have them tbh lmao
> 
> lyrics are from mother mother "it's alright"

_I had a night, I had a day  
_ _I did one million stupid things_  
_I said one billion foolish things  
_ _I'm not okay_

Janus paces up and down the length of his room, ungloved fists knotted into unruly hair, his breathing stitching his chest together like his heart is ready to fly across the room on hummingbird wings. _Not okay_ pulses in his ears, making his fingers tighten and his feet catch in the untidy pile of the carpet. His capelet is long since discarded, thrown carelessly across the bed.

He doesn't even know what's triggered it. As far as he's aware, Thomas is doing relatively well today. Certainly his connection with Thomas does not feel like the man is on the edge of a nervous breakdown, peering off a precipice and tucking his arms for a swan dive. There is nothing but his usual low level anxiety, simmering just below the surface of the human soup. 

Janus hisses a laugh that sounds more like a sob. Isn't this pathetic? He's supposed to be the _villain_ , for fuck sake. He's supposed to be the bogeyman in the shadows. He's not supposed to flinch from them. He's not supposed to be too aware of his teeth chattering together or the tears blurring his vision into a kaleidoscope wash of colors or his breath stuttering in his lungs. He's not supposed to be having a _panic attack_ of all things, and yet-

And yet-

Janus sinks to the floor, unconsciously rocking back and forth hard enough to wrench his back. Everything is a blur of fear and lies and too much, too much, _too much_ -

_I'm okay. I'm not okay. This is fine. I'm going to die. I should die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to-_

Purple crosses his vision and he frowns. Purple doesn't belong here anymore. Purple hates him now. Purple left. Purple left him, and he _deserved_ it, just like he deserves _this_ , just like he deserves _worse_ -

"Hey," a familiar voice says, though he can't put a name to it just yet. It sounds worried, and he wonders why. "Focus on me, okay? You gotta focus on me. Breathe for me, okay? Breathe in for four..." He falls into a familiar rhythm and Janus finds himself straining to do the same, desperately trying to make the owner of the voice happy ~~like he never could before~~.

"That's it," the voice encourages. Soft fingers gently untangle his fingers from his hair, settling his hands in his lap and tugging him forward, into a lopsided hug. "Keep breathing. Four, seven, eight. You got it."

Janus opens his eyes- when did he close them?- to stare right into Virgil's flustered face.

"You-" Janus blurts out before he can stop himself. "But- I- Why?"

"Dude, I could feel your anxiety across the mind palace," Virgil says. He doesn't shift back, doesn't stir himself from the loose hug that Janus can't bear to let go of. Not yet. "I can recognize a panic attack at twenty paces."

"But you-" Janus stops himself, but he knows that Virgil can fill in the blanks. To his shock, Virgil lifts one hand and cards it through Janus's hair.

"I've been an asshole," Virgil says. "We live in the same imaginary mind scape. You- you're trying, I can tell you are. I just-" He sighs. "Maybe we should talk about this later, when you're not so upset."

Janus wants to persist, wants to pursue this until he hears the play by play, but he's suddenly exhausted. He yawns hugely and Virgil chuckles.

"Exactly," he says, tired. "Sleep, Janus. I won't leave." _Not this time_ floats, unfinished, in the air between them.

"I'm sorry, too," Janus says, unable to help himself. Virgil doesn't pause in stroking Janus's hair, his fingertips prodding delightfully at Janus's scalp.

"I know," he answers. "Sleep, Jan. Just go to sleep."

The last thing Janus's sleep-addled eyes see is the soft look on Virgil's face.


End file.
